Between the Battles
by Haymitch-The-Hobo
Summary: Everyone knows what happens on the battlefield, but what about when the Shepherds aren't fighting? A novelized collection of some of my favorite supports from Fire Emblem Awakening.
1. Libra and Gaius B

It was a clear, sunny day in camp. Birds chirped and a light breeze blew through the air. It was almost as if the Shepherds weren't in the middle of a war. The camp buzzed with activity and Libra decided that it was the perfect day to send a prayer to Naga.

So, located in a quieter patch of forest a short walk from camp, the woman-like man knelt down and began to pray. "O gods, hear my plea and partake-"

"Hey there, Padre." Libra's head snapped up to see Gaius leaning against a tree nearby, eating a pastry of some sort. "Having a little chat with the management, are we?"

Libra calmly replied with a smile, "I was praying, if that's what you mean. Perhaps you would care to join me? A good soul cleansing can do wonders for one's mood."

Gaius scratched the back of his head. "Eh, I've never been much for talking to the blokes upstairs, you know?" After thinking for a moment, he shrugged and added, "Still, what can it hurt just this once?"

Gaius finished the last of his pastry and, licking the chocolate off his fingers, came to stand by the priest. "So, uh, how's this work? I can ask for anything I want, or what?"

Libra sighed slightly, but not loud enough for Gaius to hear. "Well, it is true that many people pray to receive things for themselves. But, originally, prayers were not used to beseech the gods for favors. Rather, they were used to give thanks for blessings already received."

"Blessings, eh? So I could say thanks for candied figs and honey cakes?" An eager smile crossed his face. "Oh, and fruit pies, too?"

"Er, yes. I suppose so." Libra raised an eyebrow. "If they are something you feel profoundly grateful for."

Gaius chuckled, "Profoundly doesn't begin to cover it." He knelt down awkwardly, his smile shrinking. "…So, er, do I kneel or what? Is there a bench involved somehow?"

Libra nodded, his smile returning. "It is customary to bend the knee in supplication, yes." He waited for Gaius to take the praying position. "Now then…"

The two men sat silently for a few moments. _How peaceful,_ Libra thought. _I wish days like this would come more often._

"O ye gods, thanks a billion for all thine abundantly sweet and tasty goodness…" Gaius spoke.

Libra ignored the fact that, of all things, his friend was thanking Naga for sweets. He coughed, then began, "Dear gods, thank you for watching over us, and protecting our friends and comrades."

"What? Thou art jealous, O mighty gods? Jealous and angry, you say?" Libra looked up to see his sweet-toothed friend grimace and became filled with concern. _The gods are angry? What did he do to anger them?_

"Then send thou's terrible fruit pies to me, that I might use them to smite thine foes!" Gaius exclaimed.

Libra noticed that his friend's grimace was fake and stopped praying, staring at his friend perplexedly. _What in Naga's name does he think he's doing?_

"I also love jellied pears, O vengeful ones! And those biscuits with goo in the middle!" Gaius started to tremble, his mock grimace increasing in size.

Libra looked at him and scowled. "Gaius, your demands for sweets hover ever closer to blasphemy…"

Gaius then yelped as if he had been stricken by a Risen's claws and roared melodramatically, "O furious and insane gods! Send me ten—nay, TWENTY of your finest cakes!" Libra thought to himself, _He may be better at acting than he is at thieving._

Libra muttered to himself, "He's not listening to a word I say." He raised his voice. "Gaius?" Nothing. He took a deep breath and yelled, "GAIUS!"

The said chocoholic looked up, blinking. His forehead glistened with sweat. "…Huh? Hey there, Padre. What's with the shouting?"

"I was shouting because you were completely ignoring me! That wasn't a prayer—it was a market list! The gods are not scullery maids who deliver treacle treats on demand!" He stopped his rant, panting slightly.

Gaius laughed nervously. "Oh. Right, yeah…sure. Sorry. Got carried away. I'll start over, then." He coughed, then resumed his prayer. "O most horrifying and fattened gods, thou art most tricksy in thine ways…"

Libra winced, wondering who had taught him to pray in such a manner. "D-dear gods, please send not lighting to strike down this heretic… He knows not what he does!"

When he spoke again, Gaius raised his voice loudly, to the point where Libra wondered if the rest of camp could hear him. "I will deliver unto thee my first-born son, if only you make donuts rain down upon-"

"GAAAIUS!" Libra shrieked, unable to believe what he was hearing.

The man in question chuckled and murmured, "…Whoops. Sorry." He stood and said, "I guess that's enough praying for one day." Producing a sucker from his pocket, Gaius began to walk back to camp.

After Gaius was out of earshot, Libra muttered, "Gods, please do not grant me the displeasure of praying with him again."

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**I love the Gaius and Libra supports, they're hilarious. Until next time!**

**~Haymitch-The-Hobo**


	2. Henry and Olivia A

**Hello again! I felt like writing another one of these, so I did. Please enjoy.**

**Also, part of my inspiration for this is thinkaman22's A Supportive Awakening. Check it out!**

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Olivia sighed and hung her head, resting her elbows on the wooden table. She and Henry sat alone at a table in the deserted mess tent. She'd been trying to teach him how to frown for half an hour, but he just kept smiling.

She raised her hands and, clasping them together, instructed, "Now, when you feel sad, you pull your face like so…" Olivia morphed her face into a sorrowful frown, waiting for Henry to do the same.

But, instead of frowning, the said dark mage's open-mouthed smile only grew. "You mean like thiiiiiis?"

Olivia pounded a hand on the table and groaned, "No, down! The corners of your mouth are supposed to go DOWN!" She sighed again and rested her head in her hands. "I'm starting to think that you're incapable of changing your expression."

She got up out of the chair she was sitting in and started to dance elaborately in the space near the table. She paused to speak. "Look, Henry. Life is like dancing… You can't just mimic the moves. You have to FEEL them!" She then stood somewhat awkwardly, uncomfortable that Henry's closed eyes were resting on her. Her face turned a deep shade of pink. _How is he able to see with his eyes closed?_ Olivia wondered for the umpteenth time.

"Nya ha! You compare everything to dancing. It's hilarious!" Henry laughed and began to play with a feather that was floating in the air, thinking about the blood of the animal it must have come from.

Olivia raised her voice and tried to add some force to it, but the result wasn't what you'd call intimidating. "I don't think that this is a laughing matter. I'm trying to help you, you know!"

"Look, crazy lady. I like you. I really do. But you have GOT to let this go. I smile because I'm happy, alright? There's nothing more to it." His eyes drifted to Olivia's neck, where the jugular vein was located. He wondered how much blood would pour out of it if it was sliced… But he dismissed the thought. Olivia was his friend. He would test it on an enemy soldier in the next battle.

Olivia balled her fists and furrowed her brow. "N-no. That just can't be possible." She ran a hand through her hair, then gasped, clutching a hand to her chest. "Ungh…urg…!"

Henry tilted his head slightly, a strand of his white hair falling in his face. "Hey, are you okay there? You're making funny noises." She looked like she was in a lot of pain. _Mmm, pain,_ he thought.

Olivia staggered, placing a hand on one of the table's chairs for support. She wheezed, "M-my chest…suddenly…feels tight… Can't breathe… It h-hurts…"

Henry raised his eyebrows in recognition. "Aw, jenkies! You've been cursed! I'd know those symptoms anywhere. Someone must have—"

Crumpling to the floor, Olivia gasped and panted, "Henry…please. You have to get out of here…" _So this is how it ends. I thought I'd get killed by a Risen. I hope Khan Bastillio will find another dancer. Hopefully no one will miss me too much…_

"What? Oh come on, that's crazy talk. You're gonna die here in a second." He stood up and knelt beside Olivia, placing a hand on her chest. "Now you just sit there while I dispel the curse… Hmm, let's see…" He muttered the words of an ancient spell, then yelled, "KA-BLAMMO!"

Olivia felt an immense power surge through her chest, fighting the curse, overwhelming her, and heard Henry chirp, "So long, curse! See ya in hell!" Black spots swirled in her vision and her breathing slowed. Her eyes closed.

"Olivia? H-hey, Olivia." He was met by silence. His expression turned to one of worry, his brow knitted and his lip pouted. "…You being crazy again, Olivia?" There was still no response.

Henry raised his voice to a shout and placed his hands on Olivia's shoulders, shaking her. "Olivia?! Aw, come on, Olivia! You can't die now! NOOOOO! OLIVIAAAAAA! Come back to me, Olivia!" Tears misted his eyes and his voice cracked. "Stay out of the light! STAY OUT OF THE LIIIIIIGHT!"

Olivia suddenly convulsed and she began to cough. Her eyes opened and, seeing the tears on Henry's face, she hacked, "S-stop crying." She panted, trying to breathe evenly. "I'm...I'm alright."

"…Huh?" Henry sighed in relief. "Aw, thank goodness! I was worried there for a sec."

"Well, at least I finally got to see a different expression on your face…" She laughed lightly, which only made her cough more.

"Did you?" Henry let out a nervous chuckle. "I totally didn't notice."

Olivia looked at Henry, sitting up and brushing her pink hair from her face. "Thank you, Henry. You saved my life."

Henry's wide grin returned and he laughed. "Nya ha ha! I guess I did!"

Olivia smiled. Teaching Henry how to frown might have been impossible, but now she knew that her blood-loving friend had more than one emotion.

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**So that's that. I heard a lot about the Henry and Olivia supports, so I decided to check them out. They're actually quite interesting. Until next time!**

**~Haymitch-The-Hobo**


	3. Robin (M) and Owain B

**Hello everyone! In a review that disappeared, Rachel the Guest mentioned the supports between Owain and Robin, but not the ones where Robin is his father. And that's where this came from. Also, I do take requests. But I might not get to yours right away, since there are some supports that I want to do.**

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Robin paced through camp, observing everyone's training and thinking of different battle combinations. The Shepherds zipped around the dusty area, swinging swords and shouting spells. Robin observed their every move, noticing who was winning and who was losing. Chrom and Frederick were dueling, Frederick going easy on the lord. Henry was beating Tharja happily while Ricken was growing frustrated because Miriel's tome was more powerful than his.

In the corner of the field, Robin spotted Owain turning his sword in his hands, narrating to himself. "Time to weave another brilliant tapestry of tactics for use in my future battles." He unsheathed his sword and spun around. "Today I run through the very heart of enemy territory: Castle Doom!"

Robin raised an eyebrow. _Castle Doom? Isn't that a bit obvious?_ Nevertheless, he walked over to Owain and listened to his tale as he continued, "Which means it's guaranteed to end with a dramatic rooftop showdown."

"All right. Here we go…" Owain, not taking notice of his observer, coughed and began, "I take the vanguard, sprinting towards the castle gates a step ahead of my allies." He ran towards a tree swiftly, then crouched behind it.

"Hello, Owain," Robin spoke, making his presence known to the swordsman, who jumped out from behind the tree and plunged his sword into the ground. "Are you…" he paused, not knowing what to say. _Thinking up useless stories? Playing hero?_ "…visualizing future combat scenarios again?"

"I am indeed, my inquisitive friend." Owain bowed, removing his sword from the ground as he straightened himself. "And in this week's thrilling episode, I conquer Castle Doom!"

Robin was perplexed as to how Owain could spend hours upon hours of priceless training time naming attacks and telling himself tall tales. If he wanted to make up stories for a living, then he should have become a writer! He muttered to himself, "Single-handedly, no doubt."

"What was that, Robin?"

"Nothing!" Robin replied a bit too quickly. "Nothing at all." If he had been talking to anyone besides Owain, they would have been suspicious of what Robin had spoken. But Owain, being himself, ignored it and continued with his story.

"Then let the carnage begin!" Owain exclaimed. "The mission is simple: take the wicked lord of Castle Doom" –he paused for dramatic effect— "alive! For he is the only one that knows the location of the orphan hostages!"

"Wait," Robin butted in, "why would anyone want to hold orphans hostage? Who would pay the rans—"

To say the least, Robin was ignored. "But at the lord's side stands a stunning female knight of legendary skill." Owain waved a hand in the empty space in front of him, as if he was gesturing to a wide area instead of a single person.

He drew his sword close, taking a fighting stance. "I don't have the luxury of a cautions fight. If we dance, the cowardly lord will flee!" Owain cautiously looked to the left and right, as if he were being watched. "I trust my allies to guard the exits, and the rooftop duel commences!"

He lunged forward with a battle cry, but was interrupted by Robin. "Wait, when did you get on the roof? It's not logical for you to just appear on the roof."

Owain furrowed his brow and snapped at Robin, "The great Owain Dark doesn't need logic!" Composing himself and getting back into character, he looked ahead of him and narrated, "I lock eyes with a woman whose sword has toppled dynasties!"

That reminded Robin of Say'ri and the nation of Chon'sin, which they were currently trying to protect from Walhart. He cast a glance back at the rest of the Shepherds, who were growing tired. Turning back to Owain, he suggested, "Hey, Owain, maybe you should stop making up stories and-"

But, of course, Robin was ignored again, this time cut off by the melodramatic man, who rushed forward and swung his sword forward and suspended it in midair, as if it had been stopped by another. "Our blades meet, and in that moment, we understand the mettle of the other. She smiled then, a slender thing, as a single tear works down her cheek." He stroked a line on his face to resemble the path of the said tear.

"'At last,' she whispers, 'a worthy foe.'" Owain heightened the pitch of his voice to imitate that of a woman, which almost made Robin laugh, since his voice cracked.

Despite the fact that he was almost laughing, Robin found himself enjoying the story. However unrealistic it was, it was entertaining. When Owain didn't continue, Robin pressed, "…Yes? And then?!"

Sheathing his sword, Owain straightened himself and started off to the barracks. "Tune in next week for the next episode of the ongoing Saga of Owain Dark!"

Now that Owain had stopped, Robin found himself badly wanting Owain to continue. He called, "Hey! Don't stop when it's actually getting good!"

With a chuckle, Owain continued walking. One thing he loved about telling the Saga of Owain Dark was keeping his fans in suspense as they waited for the next episode.

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**And that's the support between Owain and Robin. I have a question for you guys: If Owain was a hero, who would his sidekicks be? I say Cynthia, because she'd gladly join him, and Gerome, because he'd feel as if he needed to keep the two of them in check. Until next time!**

**~Haymitch-The-Hobo**


	4. Flavia and Basillio B

**Hello, and sorry I haven't updated in a while. I've been busy lately. So, without further adieu, here is the support for Flavia and Basillio B!**

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The sun was setting, casting an orange glow on the Shepherds' camp. A hard battle had been fought today and everyone was unwinding, releasing their stress. Basillio wandered through camp, looking for the bane of his existence. He found her at a table in the empty mess tent, wolfing down some bear meat leftover from dinner. "You have a moment, Flavia?"

The East Khan looked up from her food and, her mouth full, quipped, "When it comes to you, oaf, I NEVER have a moment."

Basillio laughed, beaming. "Ah, yes, too busy sharpening that razor wit of yours along with your swords, I'm sure… But perhaps this'll warm that icy heart of yours." He pulled a bottle from his pocket and waved it in the air. "Fine mead from the old country. Have a drink, and let's talk a bit…"

Flavia raised an eyebrow and cast a suspicions glance towards him. "Mead? Well, well, Basillio. If I didn't know you better I'd say you were up to something…"

Basillio's smile faded ever so slightly. She could be so difficult sometimes. "Look, do you want some or—"

Flavia cut him off before he could say any more. "Yes." She loved mead. "Pour me a mug—a large mug, mind—and you can have your talk."

Basillio took two fairly large mugs from the cabinet and poured mead into them. Flavia snatched hers almost instantly, the beverage threatening to spill. He knew that his words wouldn't penetrate her thick skull, but he nonetheless complained, "Take care not to spill it, now. This blasted stuff cost me a fair bit of coin."

He sat in a chair on the opposite side of Flavia. "Now then, what I wanted to ask you…" He paused and coughed. "Just between the two of us, eh? There are plenty of good men in this army of Chrom's, wouldn't you agree?" Seeing her nod, he continued, "So, er, have you…" He paused, not knowing how to phrase his question. "…taken a shine to anyone?"

Flavia muttered, "Gods preserve us." She looked up to Basillio. "What are you up to, oaf? I smell a trap. If you think I'm going to list my crushes like a giddy schoolgirl, then you—"

Basillio stopped her with a hearty laugh. "Must you question everything, woman?" In his opinion, Flavia was overly suspicious. Then again, she wasn't as bad as Frederick… "It's just idle banter, nothing more."

Seeing as she had already finished her mug, Basillio refilled her mug. "Here, have another mug of mead…" He watched as she downed half of it in one swig. "Tasty, isn't it? Now, come… You can tell old Basillio. My only aim here is to know you better." For the most part, it was true. Then again, there was always the possibility of blackmailing her at the time of the next battle for Khan-ship…

"You couldn't ply me with mead in any case. I can drink you under the table." The two of them had had quite a few drinking competitions. Flavia had a score of twenty-six and a five time winning streak, while Basillio had a score of only twenty-two.

After a few moments of contemplation, she answered him. "Fine, then." She paused for a few moments, thinking. "I suppose Chrom is quite handsome, in his own way."

"Hmph," Basillio replied, his smile fading. "Not exactly a barrel of laughs, is he? Always has his nose buried in those maps. Not to mention that hair! A bit much, don't you think? Overcompensating, I'd say."

Flavia dismissed his words, not really caring. "Your turn then. What lady do you fancy?"

Basillio's eyebrows arched in response. "Me? Well, er…" He scratched his chin, going through the decent female Shepherds. "I suppose that Lucina lass isn't half bad."

"What?!" Flavia exclaimed. "She's half your age!"

"Ha! That's ripe coming from you!" He retorted. "You're old enough to be Chrom's mother!"

Anger bubbled up inside Flavia and she sneered, "I told you about my new sword, didn't I, oaf? It's sharp enough to shave with…" She unsheathed it and rested the serrated edge of the blade on Basillio's chest. He gulped. Maybe it hadn't been such a good idea to make that joke…

Flavia stroked the blade up his chest and across his neck. "See? Feel the edge on your neck there?" She slid the point of the sword over his chin. "Look how those whiskers just fall away…"

Basillio stood still as a stone, careful not to provoke her. "T-take it easy, Flavia. J-just put that sword down and we can—"

"Keep talking? Yes, why don't we." She rested the tip of the blade right over Basillio's heart. "I believe you were saying something about my age?"

Basillio stammered to find the words that would calm that she-devil down. "Ur, yes, o-only how young and vibrant you look these da—"

"Enough, you simpering simpleton! Get out of my sight!" She ordered. Basillio backed away, reaching for the bottle as he did. Flavia touched her sword to his arm, stopping him. "And leave the mead."

"But it's my last bottle…" Basillio edged his hand closer to the bottle.

"And you're on my last nerve!" Flavia yelled. "Now go, or your next shave will be with death!"

Basillio backed away from her with a scowl and swore, "Curse you, woman! I shall have my revenge, or my name's not Basillio the Brave!" Then he turned tail and fled from the tent.

Flavia sat down with a grunt, took a swig of the mead, and ate another piece of bear meat, looking in the direction that the oaf had fled. "First time I've ever heard the name, at least."

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**In the game, when ***SPOILER ALERT*** Basillio was "killed" by Walhart and Flavia called his name, did anyone else gain a newfound liking or respect for these two? I certainly did.**

**Also, if any of you have requests, just mention it in a review. Until next time!**

**~Haymitch-The-Hobo**


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